


Splitting Hairs

by CleverSnail



Category: The LEGO Movie (2014)
Genre: Alcohol, Explicit Language, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1942623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CleverSnail/pseuds/CleverSnail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bad Cop and Emmet engage in some male bonding at a party. Naked. Outside. In the dirt.</p><p>Pretty much smut from start to finish.</p><p>Written for my darling crushinonplasticblocks (tumblr) who likes chest hair an awful lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Splitting Hairs

Bad Cop stood alone in the dark, leaning on the railing of the back deck, cigarette in hand. He’d been able to handle the press of people inside the party much longer than he’d expected. Though to be fair, that was more likely due to the joint he’d shared with Emmet and Benny half an hour before, than to any psychological gains on his part. It was getting easier, though: mingling, meeting. He’d never be a social butterfly like Emmet, never be as effortlessly good with people as Benny, but he was edging towards becoming socially functional. And he’d take it.

He took a long drag off his cigarette, exhaled and watched the smoke curl into the sky. The screen door behind him slid open with a screech and he glanced over his shoulder. Emmet sauntered up, grinning.

“Jeez, B., I don’t even recognize you out of your uniform.”

Bad Cop considered his tee-shirt and jeans. The shirt read “FUN POLICE.” It was a gift from Lucy.

“Fair enough,” he replied. “I hardly recognize myself, to be honest.”

Emmet laughed, a little too loudly. Bad Cop caught a whiff of booze. He quirked a smile, flicked the ash from his cigarette.

“Hitting the old sauce a little hard tonight, are we?”

Emmet spent the space of two seconds trying to pull himself together, but abandoned the effort. He shrugged.

“It’s Friday night. Benny makes a mean margarita,” he said by way of explanation.

Emmet pressed in close to Bad Cop’s side, and suddenly there was the weight of something else unspoken hanging in the air between them. Emmet’s bare arm was tight against Bad Cop’s. Bad Cop could feel the dope working away on his brain, pushing his inhibitions to the side. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d gently grabbed a handful of Emmet’s ample arm hair.

“You’re a furry fella,” he heard himself say. He waited to feel a rush of embarrassment, but he felt none. So he grinned at Emmet, took another pull off his cigarette. Didn’t move his hand from Emmet’s forearm.

Emmet stared down at Bad Cop’s hand.

“Yep. I am,” Emmet confirmed. He looked up, caught Bad Cop’s eye. “Lots more where that came from.”

Bad Cop froze. A jag of sobriety was suddenly pricking at his brain. This was clearly heading somewhere…unexpected. He could end this right now, take his hand off Emmet’s arm and walk away, or…

What the hell? He could live a little.

“Lots more, eh?” Bad Cop crooked his fingertips into Emmet’s arm hair. He took a last drag on his cigarette, stubbed it out, and flicked it away into the darkness.

“Show me.”

***********************

Bad Cop let Emmet take his hand and lead him down off the deck, into the cool dark corner where the deck joined the house. They crawled in behind the branches of an overgrown juniper and sat with their backs against the cold concrete foundation of the house. They grinned naughtily at each other.

“Alright,” said Bad Cop, feeling bold, “let’s have that shirt off, please.”

Emmet patted his thigh. “C’mere and help me.”

With a fierce smirk, Bad Cop crawled over, straddled Emmet’s legs, and tugged off his tee-shirt. The shirt read “SPECIAL DELIVERY.” Bad Cop rolled his eyes, tossed the shirt over his shoulder. He sat back to get a good look at Emmet in the half light spilling down from the deck. Emmet hadn’t been exaggerating about the prevalence of his hair: tight, soft brown curls spread the entire length and breadth of his broad chest, and disappeared tantalizingly down into the top of his shorts. Bad Cop slowly pushed his fingers into the dark hair, fingertips bumping gently over hardening nipples.

Emmet drew in his breath sharply.

Bad Cop cocked his head. “Feel good?”

Emmet bit his lip, nodded energetically.

As Bad Cop swirled his fingers lazily through Emmet’s chest hair, Emmet began to tug insistently at Bad Cop’s shirt. He was breathing hard now.

“Take off your shirt, B.,” he said, licking his lips.

Bad Cop obliged. But before he could even get the shirt over his head, Emmet’s large calloused hands were spread warm and wide against his chest, trailing through Bad Cop’s chest hair and rattling down his ribs.

Bad Cop smiled sheepishly and watched Emmet’s hands run the length of his body. “Not as much as you, I’m afraid.”

Emmet shook his head. “You’re perfect.”

Emmet rolled forward suddenly, pressing Bad Cop down onto the ground beneath him. Bad Cop groaned. The weight of Emmet above him was intoxicating. He spread his legs, let Emmet settle his hips between them, and pulled Emmet down into a deep kiss.

Emmet tasted rather exotically of tequila and lime, and he smelled of a drugstore-bought aftershave Bad Cop remembered using briefly and enthusiastically at the age of 15. It was endearing and inexplicably sexy at the same time. To his surprise, Emmet was a remarkably good kisser, and Bad Cop felt every movement of Emmet’s tongue register quite vividly in his groin.

Emmet pulled away from the kiss and slowly began to lick his way down Bad Cop’s torso. Bad Cop threw his head back against the soft dirt, covered his face and moaned into his fingers. Emmet was undoing Bad Cop’s belt now, pulling off his Converse sneakers and tugging down his jeans and boxers. He gently guided Bad Cop’s hard cock free, and then in one fluid motion, pulled off his jeans and boxers entirely. He shoved the clothes behind him, out of the way.

Bad Cop shivered in the cool night air, entirely naked in the dirt before Emmet. He watched, rapt, as Emmet shimmied out of his own shorts and boxers, the thick dark curls between his legs perfectly framing his hugely swollen cock.

Emmet slowly lowered himself down onto Bad Cop, pressing their cocks tightly together. As Bad Cop drew his arms up and around Emmet’s shoulders, Emmet began to move. The sensation of Emmet’s soft fur rubbing against the entire hard length of Bad Cop’s cock was electric. He was writhing beneath Emmet within seconds, moaning helplessly. They worked their cocks hard against each other, pressing, grinding, thrusting. Dust rose in small clouds around them as they thrashed together in the dirt.

Then, a screech as the screen door opened right above their heads. They froze.

“Where is he?” Lucy’s voice.

Footsteps fell in behind her on the deck.

“I thought he went out here to find B.” It was Benny.

“And now they’re both gone? What in the hell?”

Bad Cop began to rise up on his elbows, but Emmet gently guided him back down. And began grinding against him once again.

“Are you out of your mind?” Bad Cop whispered. “They’ll find us.”

“Not if you keep quiet,” growled Emmet, grinning wickedly. He pecked Bad Cop on the lips and held up his hand.

“Spit,” he demanded.

“What?”

“Spit.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Bad Cop spit into Emmet’s hand and was rewarded with another kiss. He watched that hand snake between them and grip both of their cocks, hard. With one mighty heave, Emmet pulled them over together onto their sides and began stroking their cocks with his slickened hand.

It didn’t take long for the feel of Emmet’s roughened hand sliding against his sensitive skin to drive Bad Cop nearly mad. He was mewling. He couldn’t help himself. He could hear Lucy and Benny chatting away just above where he and Emmet lay fucking in the dirt. The entire situation was mindbending, crazy. He was moaning now, couldn’t stop. Emmet was pleading with him at a whisper to hush. He was thrusting frantically into Emmet’s calloused fingers faster and faster, harder and harder, pinpricks of light sparkling madly at the periphery of his vision. And then he was in free fall, careening over the edge with a desperate yelp, spilling hotly, wildly across their bellies. Emmet clapped his free hand across Bad Cop’s mouth and followed him over, gritting his teeth hard as he came, breathing so sharply through his nose he sounded like a steam engine. When the spasms stopped they lay together, panting on the ground, covered in dust and muddied seed.

They realized the conversation on the deck had stopped all together. Bad Cop and Emmet clung to each other, waiting.

Benny’s voice broke the silence.

“Raccoons.”

And then Lucy, “You think so?”

“Yeah, when they fight they sound almost human. It’s weird.”

Shoes scraped against the deck boards as someone stood.

“Let’s see if B. and Emmet went around to the garage. I don’t want to hang around with a bunch of pissed off raccoons. Rabies.”

Lucy sighed. “Okay, Ben, you’re right. Onward. We’ll find them.”

There was the screech of the door again, and the sound of someone stepping back inside. Emmet and Bad Cop looked at each other hopefully. Emmet cracked a smile.

And then Ben’s voice, very loud and very, very close to their heads:

“Raccoons can seriously be such TOTAL ASSHOLES.”

And the screen door slammed behind him.


End file.
